A Pigment of Truth
by SkylarkRising
Summary: ON INDEFINITE HIATUS (Author's note inside) Very AU. The peculiar thing about triggers, the thing that most people fail to realize, is that they're visceral. Instinctive. Involuntary. Rated for Language. Eventual Klaine
1. Cast Some Light

**A/N: I live! So the bad news: my computer completely crapped out on me and I've been using the crappy internet at the library to stay in touch with the world (yea what a joke) until I got a new one. The good news: I now have a new computer! And in attempting to recover as many of my files as possible (seriously time to invest in that external hard drive) I discovered this little gem and decided to breathe new life into it. I kind of want to expand it and make it a multi-chapter story (the notes I found, seriously) but I was wondering what you all think? Anyone interested in seeing more or should I leave it as a one shot? Sound off in a review below!**

**Also, thanks so very much to everyone who reviewed my last story 20/20. It made me super happy :)**

**Oh, and I now have a tumblr which I am still learning my way around, but go check it out! ( .com)**

**Disclaimer: Don't Own Glee**

_A Pigment of Truth: Cast Some Light_

The peculiar thing about triggers, the thing that most people fail to realize, is that they're visceral.

Instinctive.

Involuntary.

Oh sure. People—doctors, scientists, anyone who claims some knowledge of the human psyche—can suggest what might set a person off. They've been doing it for years. And they're not necessarily wrong to try and outline what might send a person rocketing back to that dark place of fear and desperation. After all, they're trying to help.

Kurt knows that's a lie.

Well, not the helping bit. That part at least is true—it has to be, it _has to—_they actually are trying to help, though it may not always seem that way.

But the part about prediction?

Bullshit.

Of course there are the standards, which anyone with half a brain can figure out. If you've been through some kind of trauma, there is always a list of things that you're supposed to look out for, be wary of. Places, people, actions; things that you're supposed to try and avoid until you're ready to confront them. It ranges from the generically vague to the oddly specific, and depending on whom you ask, you'll get a different answer every time.

Not that those answers are wrong, per se—he still can't be in the locker room for more than five minutes and he freezes every time he hears a locker door slam—but they're not the whole truth either.

For Kurt, it's the sound of breaking glass.

Ridiculous thing to set him off. So small, inconsequential even, in the larger scope of things. One incident. One moment. Hell, it wasn't even a particularly _bad _moment when you consider the whole picture. But for some reason it's what has stuck with him in the aftermath.

The fear had been overwhelming that day. He'd been alone, which he knew in retrospect was never a good sign, just heading to his locker after glee to grab a book he'd forgotten. It was usual, normal. Even in light of the fact that nothing about his life was remotely normal anymore.

But he relished it, this tiny bit of the everyday. Craved it. Even if he could only grasp it for a moment before it was yanked away.

He had been stupid. He should've been paying more attention. He shouldn't have been _alone._

But he was. So it was all too easy for him to be cornered in one of the back hallways, pressed roughly against an old trophy case from McKinley's heyday. What little contentment he had managed to scrape up for himself had vanished between one heartbeat and the next. Replaced by fear yes, but the fear was always there. It was the knowledge that killed him, robbed him of his voice, made him small, made it impossible to be himself.

Because he knew what was coming, or at least, what could be coming.

It had been escalating for months, the bullying. And then everything had changed in the span of two minutes, all because he was exhausted, and frustrated, and so very, very, _angry_.

He thought nothing could be worse. He was wrong.

It got worse, so much worse, after that day in the locker room. At first it was just the public spectacle. More slushies, more dumpster tosses, more locker shoves, more names. But slowly, woven quietly into the public performance was the private one. The hands that lingered too long, the harsh breath too close to his face, the names becoming more explicit in nature, and the look in his eyes—wide, pupils dilated and watching, always, always, watching—and soon there was a private show, just for the two of them, to accompany the public display.

This had been one of them, though, considering how many months this had been going on it was pretty mild.

Fucking terrifying. But mild. He'd walked away unscathed. That rarely happened during these private meetings.

But the sound of a fist shattering through glass as Kurt silently begged, pleaded, _prayed_ for it to just be over quickly. That stayed with him. Long after he'd been left alone, slumped to the ground in a mixture of terror and relief. Nothing had happened this time. But what about the next? Kurt couldn't help but feel that this incident wasn't quite finished yet. Sure he'd been shoved, yelled at, warned in a low voice to remember what could happen when his tormentor became enraged. But then he'd left. Put his hand through glass and left.

It wasn't typical. And this had been going on long enough that he knew breaking away from the typical, the strange _usual_ that had somehow become his life, was never good.

Kurt would have stayed there all night if it weren't for a semi-frantic text from his dad asking where he was. That one thought, that he _couldn't_ put his dad through this kind of stress had been enough to get him off the floor and to his car.

It would be months before he realized what that one moment had done to him.

But even now, nearly three months after the torment has ended, even knowing it sets him off, he still has no way of controlling it.

On a good day, he can usually keep himself from sinking back into those dark recesses of his mind where the fear still lurks. Oh he still reacts, but he can usually keep himself composed enough to get somewhere private until he can wake himself back up, remember that _it isn't happening_.

Today is his last day of therapy before school starts in four days. It hasn't been a good day.

If he had known one of the bums who frequented the 7/11 was going to smash his empty beer bottle on the ground to show his displeasure at something or other, Kurt wouldn't have bothered to stop.

But he had been thirsty, so he had

_Stupid_.

He's just opening the car door as the bum yells, "Mother fucking _bitch! _Think you're too good to even stop—" the rest of his words are lost as he flings the brown glass to the asphalt in rage, causing the bottle to splinter into dozens of pieces.

In that moment, all other noises vanish. All Kurt can hear is the sound of glass breaking, again and again.

Breathe, breathe, _breathe._

_Rough hands grip the tops of his arms. He immediately stops struggling. He's learned his lesson, there's no point. It'll be over faster this way. He won't get hurt this way…_

It's in that moment it hits him. Fuck he's not going to make it home.

With barely a though about it, he wrenches open the car door and stumbles out into the open air. He sucks it in like a man drowning and looks around for somewhere where he can just curl up and cry without any one seeing.

He spots an alleyway between the 7/11 and hardware store. It's small and dark, and looks mostly abandoned. It's the best he's going to get.

Kurt staggers over to the alleyway, breath growing harsher the closer he gets. As soon as he stumbles into the narrow passage he collapses against the wall, and closes his eyes, telling himself again to just breathe. He manages to do it, but he can hear the dry sobs spilling out of him with every breath.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears, "Jesus, fuck, what the hell are you doing here?"

He jerks his head around, eyes wild as they land on a boy sitting in front of the opposite wall looking both surprised and furious. Kurt doesn't register the words, just sobs harder. God somebody has seen him. Now they're going to ask him what's wrong and they won't believe him when he says he's fine. Hell Kurt wouldn't believe himself either. But then they're going to tell a teacher who will tell his Dad and god he can't do that to his dad. And then… and then everyone will know and then Kurt will be dead, or worse. And just, no. Nonononono. This can't be happening.

"Okay, Beautiful, take a deep breath for me alright?"

Kurt blinks. The boy is in front of him, hands raised in a placating gesture. When did that happen? The boy has tan skin and dark curly hair. Kurt immediately notices three piercings in his right ear glinting in the dim light of the alleyway and two more plus a large bar going through the top part of his left. As his gaze moves to the boy's face he's momentarily distracted by the barbell going through the boy's right eyebrow as his own blue eyes are drawn to the boy's intense hazel ones. He looks worried. He's close enough that Kurt can make out the tight lines around his eyes and forehead. Kurt blinks. Wait, why is he so close? Oh god, why is he so _close_? Kurt sobs harder. Kurt can't be close to him. _He can't._ It'll be just like Sam all over again and he can't handle that. Not right now. Not again.

"Okay, okay, I got it, backing up now."

The boy shuffles back a bit until there are a couple feet of space between them. His hands are still raised as he sits back on his heels and watches Kurt. Kurt very much wants to stop crying now, but his tear ducts don't seem to be listening to him. Eventually, the boy lowers his hands and sits in front of him, his piercing hazel gaze still on Kurt. Kurt just sobs harder, he feels trapped in that gaze and the thought terrifies him. God this boy is going to tell, and then it'll only get worse for him. How is he going to survive that?

The boy looks away and starts to talk.

"Jesus, you scared the shit out of me. I was told this was a gallery so I didn't think anyone would be here. Tried to come at night, but there's no light back here. Which when I think about it has to be some sort of hazard because there are side doors back here that have lights above them. The bulbs are out though, fuckers who own the places are probably too cheap to replace them. Usually that falls under the heading of 'not my problem' but when I'm trying to discreetly put up a burner to let people know that I'm still getting up and haven't completely dropped off the map since last year it's better to do it at night. Much less risky and I really can't afford to get locked up again, y'know? Pretty sure I've been set back to pawn again which is gonna be a bitch to get out of. So I figured sun down on a Sunday would be good. Still enough light to work by but everywhere nearby closes at like six. The joys of the Bible belt and summer hours, right? Gives me plenty of time to get my piece up and get out without getting caught. Admittedly I'm gonna have to branch out to some more risky locations to get out there again, but I figure start small and safe and work my way back up. It worked the first time after all."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Kurt manages. He's been sucked in by the boy's words, his worries about being caught temporarily forgotten. He honestly can't makes heads or tails of most of what he's just heard, but something about it pulls at his attention. The boy glances back to him and smirks, as if Kurt's confusion is amusing.

"Ah, so the beautiful boy can speak without crying," the boy says, standing up and brushing off his jeans, "Good to know. How're you feeling?"

Kurt blinks, confused by the strange turn of events. He can't tell if this boy if messing with him or not, but he does register the question and he thinks back to the concern he saw in the boy's face.

He takes a shallow breath and starts to say 'fine' but at a sharp glance from the boy, stops himself. He can see the quiet demand in his eyes, and Kurt knows better than to lie when someone is looking at him like that. It's not a dangerous look, he doesn't think the boy will hurt him, but he feels like there's something more in the boy's eyes as he stares at Kurt. His gaze is… penetrating. That the only word for it. It forces Kurt to acknowledge that this boy won't let him brush this off. He wants an honest answer, and for the first time in a while Kurt feels like giving one.

"Like shit," he says instead, "But better, I think."

The boy smirks again, "Excellent. Hate for a stunning guy like you to be upset, though you actually look fucking gorgeous when you cry. Not sure how you manage it, but bravo." The boy winks at him and Kurt can feel himself flush. He's never been complimented before. At least not went it counted.

"And he just keeps getting prettier," the boy says, his voice light and teasing, "Pink looks lovely with your skin."

Kurt can feel the flush deepen, "Thank you," he mumbles.

The boy continues to smirk at him.

"Oh no, the pleasure is all mine. I'm hoping that if I can get you to actually laugh you'll let me kiss you before you run off to wherever you were heading before you decided to drop in here."

Kurt freezes at that.

No.

_You walk around here like that, with no idea how you look. Like you have a right to look like you do with your hair and your skin and your eyes. I can't fucking stand it._

No.

Kurt can feel the blood drain from his face as he forces his mind back to the present. He's not there. He's here. In an alley. With a boy he's never met before. With someone he didn't know when all of it was happening, so he _can't_ be back there. He closes his eyes and tries not to let the memory overtake him. It doesn't help. He can see his face in the darkness; hear the angry words swirling around in his head. He snaps his eyes open, focuses on the stranger. If he's with a stranger he can't be back in the abandoned hallway. He can't be in two places at once.

He watches the boy with wide and wary eyes, but the boy doesn't move closer. Something flashes across his face, but it's too quick and Kurt can't catch it before it's gone again. The boy looks him over for a minute and Kurt can feel his muscles tighten and coil, ready to… to what exactly? To hit him, to run, to…? Fuck he doesn't know, to do _something._ He's sure as hell isn't doing this again. He's not just going to let it happen. _No fucking way._ But the boy just sits there and observes. There's something almost knowing and fierce in his eyes, but Kurt can't quite figure out what it means. Eventually the boy takes a step to the side and wanders back over to where he was when Kurt showed up. That elusive something is gone from his eyes when the boy glances back over at Kurt. He doesn't think the boy is dangerous—he doesn't—but Kurt's instincts tell him to be cautious. Not afraid, just carful. No one has ever made him feel quite like that before.

"So," the boy says, drawing Kurt's attention back to the moment, "I'm gonna dispense with the usual 'don't-tell anyone-or-else' threats and just assume that you won't rat me out while I finish this, yea?" the boy says, picking up a fallen spray paint can that Kurt hadn't noticed. "I wasn't kidding when I said I can't go back to juvie."

Kurt knows in some part of his brain that that sentence should alarm him. But as the boy picks up the can and starts spraying it over the brick wall he was working on, Kurt just can't seem to muster up the energy to be frightened. Besides, he knows danger intimately, and he doesn't think the boy is dangerous. Not in the most immediate sense, anyway. If the boy from juvie was going to hurt him, he'd have already done it. When people mean something, really mean it, they act on it. Kurt know this, he's got months of experience to back him up. So he decides not to worry about it for now and watches the boy while he gets himself back under control.

The boy sprays blue, purple, and green on the wall in quick succession in what seem like random intervals. He uses his fingers to mix the colors while the paint is still wet. He stares at the combination for a moment before digging in a black duffle bag sitting against the opposite wall and pulling out some old newspapers. He balls them up and presses them against the still damp paint, "For texture," he says, catching Kurt's puzzled look. Finally, once he nods in satisfaction, he pulls a long tube out of the black bag and starts to unscrew the top. Kurt is surprised when he starts speaking.

"So, Beautiful," he says, pulling out what looks like a rolled up paper out of the tube, "What happened to you, if you don't mind my asking."

Kurt immediately goes on the defensive. "Nothing. Just a bad day. Everybody has bad days."

The boy nods as he affixes tape to the top of the roll, "True, but most people's bad days don't trigger their PTSD."

Kurt's stunned. He hasn't told anyone. Not even his friends. And they definitely haven't noticed anything since Kurt's been home. How had this boy known?

The boy continues to talk into the silence, "From one crazy to another let me just say that I get it. You don't have to say anything but you must have had one hell of a day to make you go there."

Kurt remains silent as the boy attaches the top of paper to the blue, green, and purple mirage he's painted and begins to unroll it down the length of the wall before taping it down at the bottom. It's strangely refreshing to hear someone call him crazy so casually. The way the boy says it, as if it's simply a fact and neither here nor there makes it seem somehow less taboo.

Because sometimes he thinks he is crazy. The fact that no one will say the word out loud to him only seems to confirm it. And god, it terrifies him.

It's why he'd let his therapist push him so hard today.

God therapy had been a bitch. Tammy had wanted to talk about his feelings regarding his return to school, which had only dredged up a whole host of memories that he was desperately trying to bury. He didn't want to go back. Of course he didn't. But between medical bills, lawyer bills, and the usual day to day bills he hadn't had much choice.

Most days, he just didn't let himself think about it. Tammy wasn't having it today, not when school started in four days. They may have released him back into the world, but they needed some assurance that he wasn't going to go off on some idiot kid once school started back up again.

Apparently your word didn't count for shit once you'd been checking into a psych ward.

So Tammy had said she was going to ask him to delve deeper into his memories than she ever had before today. She said that they were going to try and get closer to the source before school started back up again. She also said that they could stop at any time. But Kurt had just been so, so, _tired_ of it all. He was tired of always wondering and worrying and never knowing. So he'd allowed her to push further than was probably wise. But he hadn't stopped her. And as she'd told him, she's a therapist, not a mind reader. Only he can tell her how he's feeling on a given day.

He'd walked into her office feeling okay. He'd walked out trying not to let himself disappear back into his head. If he did he wasn't sure he'd ever find his way out again.

And if would have been fine. He _would have_. But he had to stop to buy himself a cool bottle of water on the way home. He was heading towards a bad place and had hoped a cool water and the drive home would give him the strength and time to compose himself before he had to face the next four days of his Dad, Carole, and Finn hovering as the school year drew ever closer.

And then that goddamn bum had had to break a goddamn _bottle_…

His attention is brought back to the present as he hears a pop and looks up to see the boy shaking a can of white spray paint.

"I don't know what happened to you," he says, extending his arm and beginning to spray an even coat of white over the paper, "But it seems bad. I mean, it must have been. So. I'm sorry. I wish it hadn't."

Kurt just stares at the boy. No one's ever acknowledged what happened to him like that before. No one's ever just said that they were sorry something bad had happened to him. Not without tacking something _else_ onto to it. It was never just as simple as 'something bad happening to him'. It was always weighed down by all the other convoluted circumstances. Hearing it put this way, in the simplest of terms was… well, it was nice.

It's not something he's ever heard from anyone else before. It makes him wonder.

"Was it bad?" he finds himself asking, pulling pieces of their conversation together, "What happened to you, was it bad?"

The boy pauses from where he's reaching up to un-tape the paper. His eyes, those same intense hazel eyes, meet Kurt's and send him that same fierce look from earlier. This time it's is both curious and wary, and silently demands a kind of trust that Kurt hasn't extended to anyone since everything happened last year. But, strangely, Kurt wants to extend that trust to this boy. He can only hope the other boy sees that as he meets his gaze. In the end the other boy eventually nods and returns his attention to the paper he's peeling away from the wall. Kurt's not sure what conclusion the boy comes to, but when he speaks, he can only assume that the boy found what he was looking for in Kurt's gaze.

"It was the worst," he says quietly, carefully pulling the paper completely off the wall before rolling it up again. "Set my life completely on its head and led to a whole host of other issues. For me and everyone around me. I'm sure you can relate."

Kurt nods, even though the boy is now rummaging through his bag and can't see. He pulls out a can of red spray paint and gives it a good shake before popping off the top.

"I'm sorry too," Kurt whispers, not knowing what else to say, "For what happened to you. I'm sorry."

The boy nods briefly in Kurt's direction, bringing the can up towards the top of the painting and spraying a quick shot of red there. He pulls his arm back and looks at his work, nodding before returning the red can and grabbing a black one. Kurt remains silent as he watches the boy add the final touches to whatever he's working on. Once he's done he packs up his supplies and slings his bag over his shoulder before walking over to where Kurt is still sitting and offering him his hand.

Kurt only hesitates for a moment before taking it and letting the boy help him to his feet. Once he's standing he realizes that the boy hasn't let go of his hand. His palms are rough and calloused, but warm and oddly comforting. This boy, this stranger, is the first person to treat Kurt like he's… well… normal. Human, even. He finds that he likes it, which only makes him more curious about the boy in front of him holding his hand.

"So remember those issues I mentioned, Beautiful?" the boy asks, eyes tracing his face. Kurt nods, slightly wary once more, "Well one of them is impulse control. And right now I really, really want to kiss you, but I get the feeling you wouldn't like that."

Kurt nods stiffly, suddenly filled with the incredible urge to run.

But he stays, something about the boy holding him in place. He feels nervous and a bit scared, but the usual terror isn't there. The urge to flee is there, but it's an active feeling. He knows that he can, and will, run if he needs to. But he doesn't feel like he needs to. He doesn't feel trapped or frozen in place as the fear filters through him. He feels… well, he's not sure what exactly he feels to be honest.

"Yeah, I figured, so I won't," the boys sighs, looking disappointed.

Kurt's eyes widen. Huh?

"Just know that I want to, but I won't, not yet." The boy takes a step back out of Kurt's bubble of personal space and brings his hand to his lips. He grins and he places a quick kiss there before letting it drop and begins to back out of the alleyway away from the parking lot and towards the back of the building. "I guess I'll have to settle for that for now. But if I run into again, just know that I plan to get that kiss," he winks. "See you around, Beautiful," he says before disappearing around the corner.

Kurt's not sure how long he stands in the alleyway replaying the last two minutes in his head.

He didn't do anything. He had every opportunity, hell he even admitted that he wanted to kiss him, really kiss him, and yet the boy didn't do anything. It doesn't make sense. Is that normal? It must be, Kurt knows what he's been through decidedly _isn't_ normal, but is this what it's supposed to be like when a boy shows interest in him? Even if he's not—and let's be honest here Kurt, he's probably _not_—serious? He just can't comprehend it. By rights, a boy who looked like that, spray painted the sides of walls—oh god that was _illegal_, he just witnessed a _crime_, oh _god_—for fun, and had self-professed impulse control issues should not just walk away from something he wanted. And yet this boy had. It made absolutely no sense. The boy made absolutely no sense.

Kurt glances down at his hand, hanging limply at his side and flushes. No sense. Who does that? _Seriously_? Absolutely no sense. God.

After several minutes he forces his mind to let it go and turns to head back to his car. He barely takes a step before he remembers the painting the boy had been working on and curiosity gets the better of him. He shuffles along the alley until he's standing in front of the wall. It's filled with graffiti, layers and layers of it. Some are simply names done up in a single color and peculiar script, while others are large murals that take up huge expanses of the wall. There's a mix of mediums too. A lot of it is clearly spray paint, but there are posters, stickers, even what looks like acrylic paint. He turns his attention to the section of wall the boy had been working on and feels his eyes water at the sight.

The image is beautiful and haunting. Kurt feels it right down to his very bones.

The paper the boy had pulled up was clearly a stencil as the white outline of a heavily pregnant girl looks sharp and shocking against the darker colors of the background the boy created. The colors mix together to give the figure an almost three dimensional aspect. In particular they highlight the hand resting on her pregnant stomach as well as her face which is looking straight up to the sky. Following the line of her sight, Kurt can see a small blackbird flying just above her head. Glancing back down at the girl he notices the shock of red at her temple. It looks almost like blood and makes him shiver as he considers what it might mean. He lets himself take in the image the boy has created, trying to understand how it makes him feel both heartbroken and hopeful at the same time. He doesn't figure it out in the end, but it, surprisingly, doesn't bother him.

Eventually, as the sun begins to sink below the tops of the buildings and the alley becomes dim, he pulls his attention away from that wall. He needs to get home. He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket to check the time and winces at the six missed calls. Three are from his dad, and then one each from Finn, Rachel, and Carole. Clearly his absence has been noticed, god they probably think something horrible happened at therapy or something. He needs to get home.

As he leaves the alleyway and returns to his car, he dials his dad. It only takes him two rings to pick up.

"Are you alright?"

He's not surprised that his dad answered like that under the circumstances, but it's always how he always answers the phone not when Kurt's not on time. At first it was sweet, and heart-warming—he knows his dad worries, _he knows_—but now he can't help but wonder there will ever be a day when his dad will just answer the phone with a 'hey, what's up bud' like he used to.

Today is not that day for that discussion though.

"Yeah Dad, just got held up is all. Sorry I missed your calls. I left my phone in the car when I stopped."

"It's all right, bud, just figured you'd be home by now is all. And it's getting dark so I just wanted to make sure everything was fine."

"It's fine Dad. Just stopped for water and gas. I'll be home soon."

He dad sounds relieved on the other end, "Good, good. Well, see you when you get home then. Love you, bud."

"Love you too, Dad," Kurt can't help but smile a bit into the phone. "See you at home," he says before pocketing his phone and getting into the car. Home's not far from here, only about twenty minutes, he'll be there in no time.

Kurt spends the entire drive thinking about the image on the wall and the strange boy who put it there.

His thoughts, about the boy and the painting, persist throughout those last few days of the summer. Even though he only has one more therapy session—the afternoon before school starts, since he's a bit of a special case—Kurt finds himself driving out of his way back to that 7/11 every day. He feels drawn to that spot, both by the haunting image that seems to fill him with so many thoughts and feelings as well as by the memory of the boy who painted it. Part of him, irrational as it may be, hopes he'll run into the boy again. In one conversation, the boy managed to make Kurt feel like a whole person, instead of one in pieces only held together by bits of tape. It's an impressive feat, considering he was having a panic attack when he met the boy.

The boy is never there, of course. Kurt doesn't expect him to be, not really. But everyday Kurt goes into the alley anyway to look at the image, and he can't help but wonder what had happened to the boy who created it.

Kurt hopes he's doing well, wherever he is.

**A/N: Should I continue? Let me know in a review. I've got most of what could potentially be the second chapter done as well as large hunks of 3 and 4 and a rough outline of the whole thing so, thoughts? Again, check out my tumblr and feel free to direct any questions there too!**


	2. And It Teases Your Head

**A/N: Good lord, it has been a *day* guys. Such tragic news and such an awful thing to happen. My thoughts are with Cory and all his friends and family. I am so sorry. **

**So I'm going to keep this short. Thanks to everyone's encouragement, I'm going to continue this fic and it will be my first mutli-chapter adventure! I'm going to try and update once a week, most likely Sundays since that seems to be the schedule I'm on. If there's going to be a delay or anything I'll post about it on my tumblr ( .com) so check there for updates/if you have any questions/just wanna follow me ;) **

**Thanks to everyone who favored and followed me/my story and a big, big THANK YOU to QueenSeer161, ****SofiaKaiEleutheria****, and the anon guest for reviewing the first chapter! **

**WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: Language, Mentions of past trauma.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Glee**

_A Pigment of Truth_

_Chapter 2__: And It Teases Your Head_

Kurt hasn't been able to get the boy and the painting out of his head.

It's both infuriating and comforting.

Infuriating, because he can't decide if it's cute or pathetic that he's been stopping by that 7/11 everyday—sometimes twice a day—to try and catch another glimpse of the boy. He's leaning towards pathetic. Seriously. He _never_ goes to the side of town, except for therapy. And now he's driving out there multiple times a day, for what? For nothing apparently. In the last four days he has seen neither hide nor hair of the boy.

But the painting is still there, and still just as entrancing as the first time Kurt saw it. Its presence is reassuring. At least it's not all in his head right?

He's spent more time than is probably healthy just staring at it, just trying to puzzle it out. Art is like that, he finds. Layers, upon layers, of meaning all dependent on the viewer. Because no two people see things exactly the same way do they? He can't help but wonder what the boy was thinking about when he came up with it. Because as beautiful and striking as the painting is, he also sees something almost…sinister to it as well.

But then again he may also be reading way too much in to a piece of, what is essentially, graffiti.

Regardless, he's happy that he has something to occupy his thoughts as heturns his Navigator into the school parking lot and pulls into one of the many spots close to the school's back entrance. There are always spots near the back of the school, which is usually an inconvenient place to park, since back doors only open from the inside. But Kurt knows the advantages of having a pre-planned escape route. You never know when you might need to make a quick and quiet getaway.

He grimaces at that thought. God, he needs to stop thinking that way. It's not going to be like _that_ this year. It's not_. _He closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. Positive thoughts about today, Kurt, positive thoughts…

He's positive that today is going to be a whole new kind of hell.

And there isn't going to be anything he can do about it.

Dammit.

He takes a moment to squares his shoulders, to make sure his armor is firmly in place. God knows he's going to need it.

Yeah, he can really use a distraction today.

"You okay, dude?" Finn asks from beside him. Kurt wills himself to relax before he answers. He can do this. He _can_.

"Fine," he replies, opening his eyes to glance over at Finn. There is concern etched over his gangly step-brother's face. Kurt knows why and isn't upset about it for once. Finn was there when he finally lost it after all, he saw everything. He is one of the few people allowed to be wary around Kurt without getting on his nerves.

Kurt's sure the whole incident was terrifying to witness.

"I just want to get this day over with," he says, trying to reassure Finn a little bit.

His step-brother grins, "I get it man. It'll be fine though. I mean, we're finally seniors! And we've still got Glee to look forward to, y'know? Besides it was months ago, everyone's probably forgotten by now."

Kurt's not that naïve, but he allows himself a small grin anyways. Finn's kind of adorable when he's trying to be optimistic and comforting.

"Yeah, we should get inside though," he says, opening his door and slipping out of his car, Finn does the same. "We've got homeroom in five and I want to catch up with Mercedes before class. Besides, might as well get the worst over with now."

Finn frowns a bit, but nods as Kurt locks the car, "Yeah, cool, I wanna catch Rachel anyway." He waits for Kurt to finish locking the car then says, "Ready to head in?"

Kurt shoots Finn a curious look, although confused might be a better word. This is new. Last year Finn would just say his goodbyes as soon as they were out of the car then head off to catch up with whoever he needed to see that morning. This waiting for him thing is a bit unsettling. And it's just another reminder of how everything is different this year, as much as he kind of hoped he could just fall back into the usual routine at school. Kurt shrugs it off though. It's probably just Finn taking his dad's advice to 'keep an eye on him' a little too seriously. He reminds himself that Finn's just trying to help. Between him and his dad it's been a hell of a year for the Hudson-Hummels.

So he'll put up with it for now. It's bound to wear off in a few days after the usual beginning-of-the-year madness sets in. Finn, Rachel, Mercedes; all of them will get busy and then Kurt can get back to focusing on getting through this year and then out of this cow-town.

He follows Finn into the school, resolutely ignoring the eruption of whispers and stares that follow them and is relieved when he sees Mercedes and Rachel leaning up against his locker. He knows they're waiting to ambush him and while part of him wants to be annoyed—he does _not _need baby-sitting, he survived all of last year without it, he's _fine_—another, larger part of him is just glad they still want to be his friends.

Because he's not entirely sure he can get through this year without them. But he tries not to think about things like that.

So he puts a smile on his face, silently forgives the hovering, and gives them both hugs as he reaches his locker. Despite everything, he really has _missed_ them.

"Hey, boo," Mercedes says, releasing him to Rachel, "Haven't seen you since June, but damn do you look good for a… for how long I haven't seen you."

The 'for a crazy person' hangs between them.

He knows that's what she was going to say.

He represses a sigh. And so it begins.

It's what everyone's been whispering ever since he walked into the building. Hell, ever since he was checked into Lima Psychiatric Hospital. He's no longer 'that fag in glee club' now, he's 'that crazy kid who snapped last year'. He's really not sure which is worse. On the one hand, his new infamy probably means he'll be left alone, at least until people forget that he's the kid who spent a hunk of his summer locked up in the crazy house. On the other, his old reputation didn't leave his friends walking on eggshells around him.

Kurt squashes down the urge to sigh and roll his eyes. He kind of wishes she would just say it already, joking about it makes everything that little five letter word represents somehow less frightening. But she won't. He knows show won't. None of them will. He could tell the one time she and everyone else came to see him over the summer that everything about the LPH made her extremely uncomfortable. He wonders when that feeling was extended to him, to Kurt Hummel the person, though.

He also wonders how much that feeling is due to the reactions of everyone else after he 'snapped'.

Kurt's not stupid. He knows people have been talking about it. It happened before the school year was out, so yeah, people were going to talk about it. The problem was that since no one, not even Kurt's friends, could explain what had happened, the rumors and speculation had run rampant. The fact that he spent part of the summer checked into a psychiatric hospital only added fuel to the fire. Last he heard, he was actually a violent maniac who had had a psychotic break and been sent away to the loony bin where he had knifed an orderly and strangled another patient before becoming addicted to prescription painkillers.

Which is ridiculous, but who cares about the truth anyway?

Kurt takes a quiet breath and lets the resentment go, though. His friends won't say it. Mercedes won't say it, too afraid that it will set him off. He misses the loud girl who never had a problem calling him out on his bullshit. Kurt sardonically wonders where she went before giving himself a mental shake and willing himself not to bitter about it.

He's unsuccessful.

Despite his nest efforts, he can feel it settle in the pit of his stomach. Something clenches there and for a moment he wants to lash out, to tell her to just _stop_. It's not like she or any of his friends have even bothered to ask _why_ he went completely off the deep end. Once everything came out about the bullying and how intense it had gotten they all just assumed that that was it. They thought that they understood. But how could they understand if they'd never _asked_ him?

His mind flashes back to that dirty alley and the boy. He remembers that fierce and knowing look, can practically hear his smooth tenor, '_From one crazy to another…'_

God it had been so _liberating_.

What does it say about him that he's now more comfortable in the presence of a self-confessed juvenile delinquent than his closest friends?

Kurt shakes his head again. He's not going to think about that now. He'll cross that bridge when, _if_, he gets to it.

Fortunately, Rachel is already chattering away about her plans for glee club this year before the awkwardness now between him and Mercedes can permeate the air. Kurt smiles and lets them both link their arms with his as they walk to the choir room for homeroom with Finn trailing behind them. Kurt can hear the noise coming through the room's closed door as they approach. He can pick out the sounds of a few voices as well as a guitar as Mercedes pushes open the door.

As soon as he's inside the room he can feel his body relax somewhat. Despite all of the ups and downs, this room has always been a safe haven for him. He's glad that all the bad things from last year haven't managed to taint it. So much of what happened was connected to this room in a way. Some of the worst days were always after Glee. Always when he was alone, when he was leaving. And then he would be trapped, cornered and he couldn't come back to this room. Couldn't risk this last safe place left to him at school… he just… he _couldn't_…

"Looks like Aretha, Lady, and Man-hands have decided to grace us with their presence," says Santana, her sharp, but oddly… affectionate? voice jerking Kurt from his thoughts. He takes a deep steadying breath while Rachel goes into a full-on tirade at Santana's insult. Don't go there, he tells himself. You can do this, just don't think about it. You can and will get through this. Don't go there.

He lets Mercedes tug him towards the chairs on the back of the risers as Santana and Rachel continue to hurl abuse at each other. Finn quietly takes his seat in the front row, trying to make himself as small and unnoticeable as possible. The rest of the glee club either turns to watch the blood-bath or else ignores the two girls in favor of continuing their conversations. Kurt can't help but smile. Some things never change.

Mr. Schue is nowhere in sight as the bell rings so everyone continues chatting; or in Puck, Artie, and Brittany's cases an impromptu sing-a-long, as they wait for his arrival. Kurt's in the middle of a conversation with Mercedes about a possible shopping trip this weekend to catch up when Tina comes rushing into the room about ten minutes after the bell.

"Tina, are you alright?" Mike asks, drawing everyone's attention to her. She looks winded, blue and black hair falling in her face as she bends over trying to catch her breath. Her bag slips off her shoulder and lands on the floor with a loud _thump_, as she tries to speak.

"You won't," pant, pant, "believe what I," pant, "saw," pant, pant, "on my way," pant, "here."

Mike gets up and carefully leads her to the seat in the second row next to him. Everyone waits while she gets her breathing under control, already anxious for the first gossip of the year. Kurt's secretly thrilled. New gossip means that there's a small—extremely small but still _there_—chance that the Neanderthals that go to this school will leave him alone in favor of focusing on this new drama.

"Well?" Mercedes demands, "Let's hear it girl, what's got you all worked up?"

"There's a new transfer student this year. And _oh my god_ he is a _sight_."

Rachel frowns, "How do you know he's a transfer student?"

Tina rolls her eyes, "Because it's a small town and I've never seen him before," she says.

"How hot we talking?" Santana interrupts, unmistakable interest in her eyes.

Tina grins, "Ridiculously hot. He was standing outside smoking when I rushed in, didn't even seem to care that the bell had already rung."

Santana rolls her eyes, "I don't give a rat's ass about his addiction problems, Asian Won. I _do _care about how fine his ass was, so get on with it."

Tina huffs, but continues, "I didn't get the best look at him, but he seemed like he was bit taller than me, tan skin, deliciously tight jeans, but not too tight. He had on a black jacket of some sort, that did wonderful things for him," she sighs. "I bet it was leather," she pauses as a somewhat dopey grin forms across her face. Mike clears his throat to get her attention causing Tina to flush a bit. Kurt can't help but grin, the boy at least sounds like he dresses well, whoever he is.

"But the best was his _hair_," she says, cheeks still pink, "It was all dark and curly and ruffed up. I just wanted to run my fingers through it…"

"Tina!" Mike yelps, causing the rest of the club to laugh. It's then that decides to make his entrance. Kurt watches as his eyes quickly survey the room before shaking his head, apparently deciding that whatever is going on isn't worth the effort of finding out. _A wise choice, Mr. Schue_.

"Okay guys," he says, calling them to some semblance of order, "Sorry for being a bit late, I was trying to come up with some ideas for recruiting new members for the year. I was thinking…"

Kurt only partially listens as Mr. Schue continues to explain what he's calling the 'Purple Piano Project'. He hears enough to know that he is going to make himself as scarce as possible during the day. No way is he putting himself out there on display for everyone. He's under enough scrutiny as it is and this can't possibly end well. So no, sorry Mr. Schue, not happening.

As the bell rings, signaling the end of homeroom, Kurt quickly grabs his bag and follows the rest of the glee club out of the choir room. He turns right, heading to history, when he feels two bodies on either side of him suddenly link their arms with his. He freezes for a moment, falling back into the old instinct at being touched. Realizing that it's just Rachel and Tina, who must also have the same history class, he wills himself to relax. They won't hurt him. They're his friends. It's fine. Relax. Breathe.

"So, I was thinking something from Wicked for Mr. Schue's assignment," Rachel begins as they make their way to the history classroom, "It's still Broadway, but fun and fairly popular so a lot of people have heard of it and it'll attract a fairly good crowd and I don't think we'll get slushied for it so—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Tina interrupts, "Let's not get ahead of ourselves here, isn't the point for this to be spontaneous?"

It's not exactly the out he's looking for, but under the circumstances Kurt will take it.

"Tina's right," he says as they enter the classroom and settle into a group of seats towards the back. "Besides, I'm not doing it," he admits.

Rachel looks appalled, "But Kurt, you have to!" she gasps, "I've missed a summer of duets with you and we need to make sure our voices are up to par for Julliard!" she pauses, and gives him a dead-panned look. "We _are _still going to Julliard aren't we?"

Kurt can't keep the grin off his face. That's Rachel Barbara Berry, eye always on the prize. In some ways it's a relief that she's refusing to allow the events of last year to change any of their plans. But things have changed, and Kurt isn't sure how he feels about being in the spotlight anymore. Not after being thrust into his own hellish one last year and the whispers he know will follow him this year. But Rachel is the only person, besides his family, who has really stuck by him since things went completely to shit. She actually visited him multiple times over the summer while he was at LPH. She never got much deeper than the surface of what happened—he doesn't know if she's really that clueless or just doesn't know how to address the issue—but she tried to be there in her own way. And even though he wished she would just _ask_ him, she had done more than anybody else. So he will be honest, because for all that she can be a royal pain in the ass, he does love her.

"Of course we're still going to New York," he says, settling into his seat and pulling out his history book and some paper. "I'm just not sure Julliard is the right fit for me."

Rachel frowns at him as she takes her own seat, "Well I can't say that I'm particularly pleased about your answer, but as long as you're not completely abandoning me I suppose I can accept that." She fixes him with a fierce look, "But you're still doing a duet with me. I need someone who's at the same vocal level as I am to keep me on my game. How am I supposed to get better without someone worthy to challenge me?"

"Speaking as one of the unworthy," Tina huffs from next to her, "You're going into diva territory again. If you keep it up you'll chase away anyone remotely interested in auditioning."

Rachel looks offended, "I will not! Besides, they ought to know what they'll be up against."

Tina rolls her eyes, "Fine, but I'm warning you, Berry, if you pull another stunt like last year the glee club will collectively end you."

"Kurt!" Rachel wails, turning to shoot him a pleading look. He smiles and shakes his head. He's missed these moments, the times when he can pretend that last year had just been another uneventful year of high school and that he had spent the summer hanging out with his friends. It's nice to be reminded of how things used to be, even when he's forced to acknowledge that it's only an illusion.

It also means that he knows better than to get involved in the drama of Rachel Berry versus the glee club.

"Sorry, Berry, you are on you own with this one," he says right as the bell rings. Rachel's retort is lost in the noise as Mr. Carson enters the room and tells everyone to quiet down.

"Alright, alright, can it, guys!" He says, getting everyone's attention. Mr. Carson is one of the few teachers at McKinley who has the general respect of the student population. Mainly because he doesn't take anyone's shit and levels with his students. Kurt finds him abrasive, but he has to admit that the teacher's honesty is refreshing.

"So," Mr. Carson continues, "Welcome to senior year European History. After I take role I'm going to hand out a syllabus and we'll go over what we're going to be doing this year. Since it's the first day and I know most of you still have your brains set to summer-mode we'll hold off on homework until tomorrow. This is your one and only pass guys, so enjoy it and be here tomorrow ready to get started. Alright let's get going. Heather Adams?"

Kurt tunes him out as the role begins, whispering with Tina and Rachel as he listens for his name. He raises a hand as it's called and continues to chat through the rest of the role. Tina's trying to convince Rachel that staging a large group performance in the courtyard is not the point of the Purple Piano Project assignment, as well as a colossally _bad_ idea, when the classroom door bangs open. The noise jars Kurt's ears and draws his and everyone else's attention to the doorway.

Kurt can feel his breath catch as Tina leans forward to whisper, "That's him! The new guy! God is he dreamy or what?"

Kurt can see the appeal, but that's not what making it difficult to breathe.

The boy who enters the classroom is gorgeous and intimidating as hell. He's in well-fitting clothes, a pair of dark blue jeans, an olive colored t-shirt, and a black jacket that Kurt can tell is made out of some kind of heavy canvas material. Tina was definitely right about his hair too. Dark curls cover his head in casual disarray with a few strands hanging in his hazel eyes, drawing attention to the familiar piercing in his right eyebrow.

Kurt recognizes his appearance—like he could forget it, he has _eyes_—but it takes his brain a moment to register what he's seeing.

It's the boy.

He's not sure if this is the universe answering his prayers or playing a cruel, cruel trick.

He watches as the boy quickly surveys the room, eyes darting from person to person. Kurt wonders if the boy will remember him. He gets his answer when the boy's eyes find his own. He watches as recognition flashes in their depths before a smirk breaks out across the boy's face, and his gaze focuses exclusively on Kurt. Kurt's own eyes widen at the boldness of the boys stare. Just like before, it's as if the boy's eyes see right through him, but this time he's not lost in a haze of memory and can actually focus on the gaze. That same feeling of _knowing _is there, but it's overshadowed by the subtle challenge Kurt reads there. But what is the boy challenging him to? Before he can send a look in return—how does one convey 'Yes, I know you' just with their eyes?—Mr. Carson calls to the boy, which draws his attention away from Kurt as he focuses on the teacher.

"Ah, you must be Blaine Anderson then?" Mr. Carson asks.

The boy, Blaine, nods shooting Mr. Carson a mildly annoyed look.

"You do realize that the bell rang ten minutes ago right?"

Blaine rolls his eyes, "Seriously?" he huffs, voice still that smooth tenor Kurt remembers, "It's my first day and this goddamn place is like a maze. I got lost. Sue me."

Mr. Carson frowns, "Language Mr. Anderson, it was just a question. Don't make a habit of it, alright? Why don't you find a seat and then we'll begin going over the syllabus."

"Whatever," Blaine mutters and he heads towards the back of the classroom while Mr. Carson starts passing out the syllabus. He takes the seat directly behind Kurt, dropping his bag with a loud _thunk_.

Kurt isn't sure his choice is intentional until he hears a whispered, "Well hello, Beautiful," that sends shivers up his spine. 

What the hell is he supposed to do about _that_?

He keeps his gaze fixed on Mr. Carson at the front of the room and doesn't turn around, ignoring Tina's anxious, "_Kurt_" in favor of hearing Mr. Carson talk about the assignments for the year.

He manages to make it through the entire class without glancing behind him or demanding to know what Rachel and Tina have been talking about in the notes they've been passing the entire period. It's quite the accomplishment since he's been acutely aware of Blaine's presence since the boy sat down behind him, noting every shift in posture or long exhale he's uttered. It's somewhat mortifying to be so intensely aware of someone he's only met once before, and he tries desperately not to let his awareness show. He's quite proud of himself when the bell rings and he's managed not to make a fool of himself. Unfortunately as he gathers his things and stands to leave, Blaine is right there in front of him. Kurt's breath catches in his throat at Blaine's proximity and as if sensing the panic building Blaine immediately takes a step back.

"So, Beautiful," he begins, as Kurt's breathing returns to normal. "I never did catch your name."

That same air of a challenge is still in Blaine's eyes as he casually stands in front of him. Kurt gives himself a moment to look, to _think_, before he answers. He's aware of Rachel next to him, sizing Blaine up and Tina at his other side, not-so-subtly pulling his arm in an effort to get him away from Blaine. He's aware that several people have stopped to watch the exchange, because someone new like Blaine talking to someone with Kurt's reputation like they know each other is definitely gossip worthy.

As he stares back into Blaine's eyes he thinks he gets it.

He knows Blaine is trouble—there is the appearance factor, but he _did_ watch him commit a crime after all—and he's willing to bet that he's not the only one who thinks so. The difference is that Kurt _knows, _while everyone else merely suspects. He knows that feeling. He hates that goddamn feeling. And really, what the hell does he have to lose? Kurt's had Blaine on his mind for days. He is _not_ passing up this opportunity.

"Kurt," he says, feeling pleased at the small grin that appears on Blaine's face.

"Kurt," Blaine repeats, and wow his name sounds very nice rolling of Blaine's tongue. "I like it, but I think I'll stick to Beautiful." Blaine winks as he saunters from the room leaving Kurt blushing bright red and Rachel squealing at his side.

By third period most of the school has taken notice of Blaine. It's hard not to. They rarely get new students since most of them have spent their whole lives in Lima and it's not exactly a big place. The fact that Blaine has a tendency to mouth off to teachers, skip the beginning of class to smoke, and shove back at the first jock to try and give him a hard time quickly earns him something of a reputation. Which, compounded with his rough appearance, leads to curious and concerned looks form Tina and Rachel. Kurt shrugs it off though. He doesn't have to explain himself to them. He's pretty sure he doesn't want to anyway. Not yet at least.

By lunch everyone in glee club knows that the new kid, who in Puck's words is, 'threatening his spot as top bad-ass', has his eye on Kurt, and everyone has an opinion on it. (Because Blaine from a distance is mysterious, and sexy—everyone is allowed to want him. But Blaine causing problems in school and showing a repeated interest in _Kurt_—they have four classes together, Blaine informed him of this after stealing his schedule and insinuating that Kurt was the best eye candy ever—is unacceptable.) Fortunately, Kurt doesn't have to listen it as he takes one look at the purple piano in the cafeteria and immediately heads in the opposite direction. He spends his lunch in the choir room alone and is only slightly bitter about the fact that no one comes looking for him. The bitterness rapidly evaporates when the entire glee club trudges in towards the end of lunch covered cafeteria food.

He's sympathetic, but still very glad he chose to bail. In light of what happened to everyone else, they don't even give him any crap for it.

By sixth period, Blaine has managed to land himself a week of detention after tackling a football player attempting to slushie him and threatening to break his fingers one by one if he 'ever got it in his fucking pea-brain to try it again.' It's after this incident that Tina reminds Mercedes, who reminds the rest of the glee club that Blaine clearly wants to get with Kurt.

Glee that afternoon is torture.

"Wait, he's gay?" Santana demands, glaring at Kurt like he has the answer and that it's somehow his fault if it's true.

"I don't know, okay?" Kurt groans, "I've barely said two words to the guy since he's been here."

Which isn't actually a lie. He's said very little to Blaine at McKinley, and if this is the reaction after exchanging a few words, no way is he telling them anything about the first time they met.

Not that he would anyway. His friends don't want to know about Kurt's issues. Not really. Not unless they want to ogle at the spectacle, like the fact that Blaine may or may not have an interest in him. Then they want to know and observe and comment on all the little details. But his problems make them uncomfortable so they'd rather just not acknowledge them.

Lucky them.

"I do not think hanging with him is a good idea, boo," Mercedes says, and he resists the urge to snap at her, at all of them. This isn't the first time someone has said something similar to him since glee started. It's getting old fast.

"I'm not 'hanging' with him," he repeats. "I barely know him. He asked me my name, and I told him. We have four classes together, so he says hi, I say hi. That's it, okay? I was being polite!"

"Mercedes, is right, yo," Artie adds. "He's only been here, like, a day and he's already in trouble. That spells all kinds of bad news, Kurt."

Kurt growls, "_Oh my god_, stop it. All of you. Just stop. I don't know him, we're not going out, and even if we were it would be _none of your business._ So drop it."

His outburst sends them all into silence. Finally. But it's a bittersweet victory, since he knows they're now worried that he's going to go off on them like he did back at the beginning of May. He crosses his arms and scowls into the floor.

"We're just worried, Kurt," Rachel says as she leans against his shoulder.

"Well don't. I'm fine."

"You're lying. But I'll try to lay off, just… be careful, okay?"

He nods, if Rachel can try to leave him alone about this there maybe hope for the rest of them.

As Mr. Schue enters the choir room Kurt can honestly say that he has never been happier to see him. He has the glee club stand and warm up before they jump into a number to end the Purple Piano Project assignment and start practicing potential songs for regionals. They spend the last fifteen minutes of rehearsal discussing how to up their membership and Kurt is thrilled to note that all attention seems to have been taken off him. Thank god the glee club now has something else to focus on.

Kurt spends most of practice only half-paying attention. Despite having met the boy, Blaine, again he still can't keep his mind off him. He wonders what Blaine's doing here. He wonders what happened to him, what put him in juvie. He wonders where he learned to paint like that. He wonders why a boy like that would give Kurt the time of day (freak panic attacks in shady alleys don't count). But most of all he continues to wonder what Blaine meant that time when he said that he wanted to kiss Kurt but that he wouldn't.

Not yet at least.

**A/N: Next chapter will be up on Sunday barring any unforeseen issues. Check my tumblr for updates if it's not. Please review!**

**-Skylar**


	3. Have A Little Trust

**A/N: So this chapter is coming later than I intended. Sorry about that everyone, the joys of modern technology—great until it breaks. But I have new computer screen, and we are back in business, so thanks for the patience. **

**Also, I am going out of town next weekend to see family so Chapter 4 won't be up until Monday. I just won't have time to post it beforehand. After that we'll get back to the usual Sunday evening routine. So in the meantime enjoy the chapter and don't forget to drop me a review!**

**As always thanks to everyone who favored/followed me and this story. It means a lot guys. Big thanks as well to xXxSimonexXx, QueenSeer161, and BrainsInMyHead4 for reviewing!**

**WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: depictions of past trauma, bullying, sexual harassment/assault, language.**

_A Pigment of__Truth_

_Chapter 3:__ Have a Little Trust_

_He's walking down the hallway early in the morning when the first shove comes out of nowhere._

_The loud crash of him banging against the lockers echoes in the empty hallway and he only has a moment to register what's happening-to pull himself together, to try and _prepare_ himself—before the sinking knowledge of what's happening freezes him in place, much like the large body holding him up against the lockers. _

_Karovsky's here. Why the hell is Karovsky _here_?___

"_Well, look who I found wandering around so early in the morning. Come to see me Hummel? Knew I would be here?"_

_No. No. NO._

_Kurt wants to shout it, can feel his body stiffen with it, but he won't say it. He came to school early to get some work done. He didn't know Karovsky would be here. Sure as hell wouldn't have come if he'd known…_

_But he keeps his mouth shut, forces his face blank, let's his mind wander elsewhere until it's over. _

_Nationals are coming up, he'll be damned if he lets Karovsky ruin it for him. He just has to get through the next three weeks, and then he has a whole week away from him. He'll be in New York getting his first real taste of freedom; of what is life is _going_ to be like. Kurt can just _see_ it._

_Karovsky's leaned forward, most of his body pressed against Kurt. He's whispering something in his ear._

_He's going to live in the city. Manhattan if he can manage it. He's already started looking at apartments in his favorite places; the west Village, Greenwich, the Upper East Side, Midtown, Alphabet City (so he's got a thing for that loft in _Rent_ sue him. He could do so much with that kind of industrial style…). It's going to be wonderful._

_Karovsky's hands have stopped griping him so tight. Probably because Karovsky has realized that Kurt's not going to move. They're stroking up and down his arms now. He briefly thinks that the gesture is supposed to be enticing. It makes him want to vomit. But he won't show it. He can't. Too risky._

_Besides, there's New York to think about. Where he lives will probably depend on where he goes to school though. Rachel's made some noises about Julliard; he has to admit the idea is definitely appealing. But he wants to keep his options open. He should probably start looking into more schools than neighborhoods soon._

_He registers a pair of chapped lips against his own. He doesn't respond and keeps his mouth firmly shut. It'll be over in a bit._

_What other schools are in the area? NYU is an obvious one. Columbia too, but Kurt's not sure he wants to go Ivy—do they even have a drama program?_

_Karovsky pulls away, and tells Kurt he should make it a habit to get to school early in the mornings, it'll be easier for them that way. Kurt briefly wonders what Karovsky means by 'them' as he releases Kurt and turns to walk away. Kurt watches him briefly as he continues to catalogue schools in his head. He's heard a lot about the CUNY system, but he thinks that's more for in-state students. Still might be worth looking into though._

_He bends down to collect the book he dropped when Karovsky shoved him and makes his way to the French classroom. Once inside he pulls out last night's homework and begins the conjugations he didn't finish. He'd gone to bed early instead, he hasn't been sleeping well. _

_He's nearly finished as the rest of the class settles in. Mike joins him just before the bell rings, sliding into the seat behind Kurt. He asks Kurt something about the homework and Kurt hears himself answer, but he's now contemplating scholarships and loans. New York isn't cheap after all._

_As Madame March begins the lesson he takes notes, he doesn't raise a hand to correct her when she makes a glaring translation mistake._

_Why aren't you raising you hand? A small voice asks._

_Kurt's trying to determine what his dad can contribute to his college fund so that he doesn't have to take out as many loans._

_Hello? Raise your hand. Correct her. You know the answer._

_He's not sure what this year's income is. His dad had to take a lot of time off after the heart attack._

_Hey. Say something. You hate it when she messes things up. Another example of this piss-poor school system, right? You need a good education to survive college. _

_He wonders how Carol fits into his FAFSA now that she and his dad are married. He should look into it._

_Look! She did it again. God and these people are supposed to be teachers. It's a good thing Mr. Schue quit teaching Spanish. Now that was a travesty. And people wonder why Ohio is losing in the education standards._

_He should really look into that FAFSA thing. _

_Wake the hell up! Come on, say something. Anything. Pleasepleaseplease. I'm begging you. Say _something_. _WAKE UP.

Kurt snaps up with a strangled scream, nearly doubled over as he sucks in air.

Back at McKinley for a day and already the nightmares are back.

He shivers as he feels the sweat drying on his skin. He glances over at his alarm clock. The luminescent numbers blink back at him. 2:39 AM. He takes a deep breath. Yeah, he's not going back to sleep after that.

Kurt waits until his no longer gasping for breath before he flops back down on his bed. He keeps his arms spread wide allowing his chest cavity to remain open as his breath comes back to him. It's a trick he was told about during the brief period he tried group therapy as a way to help during a panic attack. It's a good trick, as long as he's coherent enough to remember it.

But this was just a nightmare, still awful, but not as back as the flashbacks. In the nightmares, he doesn't remember the _feel _of things, just that they're happening. Not that that nightmare happened. The events did, though it was English class and not French, but all that stuff going on in his head didn't. Which is honestly what made the dream so terrifying.

Kurt's always been good at compartmentalizing. He's had to be to survive. People can be extremely cruel and the only way he could deal with it was put it in a box to examine later. Later was usually at the end of the week when he allowed himself to pop off the top and sift through the contents. It usually ended in tears, but it also made him able to face the next couple of weeks ahead of him.

What he doesn't now is when he got so good at it that it became a state of being for him.

Kurt shivers again, but it's got nothing to do with the, now cold, sweat drying on his body.

He stares at the ceiling, trying not to dwell on the nightmare, but unable to pull himself away from it immediately. After about an hour he accepts that he's _really_ not going to sleep after that and sits up in his bed. He rolls over towards the night table where he left his backpack and digs through it until he finds his copy of _The Count of Monte Cristo._ It's the first book they're reading in English this semester. Kurt figures that if he's going to be awake he might as well do something productive.

Kurt lets out a yawn as he locks his car—he is going to pay for staying up most of the night—and walks around it to meet Finn on the other side. He's not surprised when Finn walks with him into the school. It's only the second day after all. He knows it's going to take a little time before things get back to some semblance of normalcy.

Normalcy. Ha. That's funny.

Kurt bites the inside of his cheek as he and Finn enter McKinley. Bursting into hysterical giggles will not convince anyone that he's fine. God, the lack of sleep might just kill him before the day is out.

They're barely in the door before Mercedes and Tina appear on either side of him and link their arms with his as they all fall into step behind Finn. He loves his girls. He does, but this is starting to become suffocating.

"So I'm thinking of getting rid of the blue," Tina starts, twisting a strand of colored hair around her free hand.

Kurt makes a 'hmming' sound and suppresses a yawn as Mercedes jumps in.

"Why? You can actually rock that shade of blue and not look completely crazy. Girl, do you have any idea how hard that is?"

Tina shrugs, jostling Kurt's arm in the processes. "I know, but we're seniors. I think it's time to lose the blue and go with something a bit more, mature."

"Like what?"

"No idea. I was hoping you and Kurt could help me? I'm going to have to bleach out the blue first."

Kurt maybe tired, but he's not letting one of his friends do something potentially ridiculous to their look. Tina's style maybe vastly different from his own, but she can work it and he appreciates that.

"How about next weekend?" He says, "You can both come by the house and we'll do something to give Tina a more mature look. If Rachel's nice over the next two weeks, maybe we'll invite her as well."

He can feel himself smile as he says it. He loves make overs, and Tina's hair is gorgeous. He's pleased to find he's actually looking forward to the chance to hang out with them for an extended period of time.

He's surprised to see Tina frown slightly, "Well, I was hoping to do it sooner. Any chance you're free this weekend?"

"Sorry," Kurt says, keeping his smile in place, "I'm busy this weekend, unfortunately. If you want the expertise of one Kurt Hummel you'll have to wait until next weekend."

Tina let's out an overly dramatic sigh, and Kurt can see Mercedes now frowning and looking suspicious out of the corner of his eye.

"So what are you up to this weekend then?"

Kurt shrugs, but can feel the muscles in his shoulders tense. Please just let it go.

"Just some stuff I have to get done. That's all."

Mercedes narrows her eyes, "Is it the same stuff that won't allow up to go shopping this weekend?"

Kurt can feel his smile turn to stone on his face.

"I told you," he says, trying to keep the anxious irritation out of his voice, he doesn't want to have to say it, "we can go on Friday, but I'm busy on Saturday, and Sunday is my homework day. You know that."

Her frown is more pronounced. "Right, the thing you're doing on Saturday that you won't tell me about."

The smile drops from his face. "You don't want to know," he mutters. Tina has gone oddly silent next to him.

"But I do," Mercedes insists. "I don't like the idea of you keeping secrets. I just want us to be open, that's all."

Kurt gets where she's coming from. There was a time when they told each other everything. Hell, she was the first person he came out to. He's trusted her with himself more than anybody else.

He takes a quick breath and turns his head to look her directly in the eye.

"I've got therapy on Saturday," he says, as matter-of-factly as he can muster, "It usually makes me rather unpleasant to be around for the rest of the day. Sometimes it bleeds into Sunday. It's why I'm trying not to schedule appointments during the week."

Mercedes eyebrows have shot up so high they're practically in her hairline. He takes something of a vindictive pleasure at her shocked expression.

"I…" she stops and clears her throat for a moment, "I didn't know you were still going."

Kurt nods, "For now. Not sure if it's helping as much as it was but at this point it can't hurt, right?"

Part of him isn't surprised that she doesn't answer, opting to glance down at the floor as they stop at Finn's locker instead. Another part of him is severely disappointed. He tries so hard not to let the feeling overwhelm him. He wishes it didn't matter, her shying away from the topic. He wishes someone one of his friends would just accept that this is his life at the moment. He glances over a Tina who is pointedly not looking at him. Even she's made uncomfortable by it all. Hundreds of people go to therapy. It happens all the time. It shouldn't be a big deal. It shouldn't bother him that his friends are bothered by it. And yet it does.

How do they get back to the way things were?

Just as the silence is stretching into strained they're interrupted when someone's chin drops on Kurt's shoulder, causing him to freeze.

"I like your honor guard," says a smooth, and very much male, voice, "But you do know they've left your back wide open right?"

The words have barely left the person's mouth before Kurt jabs an elbow into the person's chest. They let out of and strangled _oomph_ but keep their chin firmly on the edge of Kurt's shoulder as he turns to get a look at them. He's a little surprised, but not as much as he probably should be, to find Blaine's head resting on his shoulder, a grimace on his face.

Kurt didn't put all his strength behind the blow, mainly because Mercedes and Tina's arms were still linked with his. But also because, although he didn't immediately recognize the voice other than to determine that it was male, he wasn't afraid either. Startled, and a little annoyed, yes, but not afraid. He allows himself a minute to marvel at the feeling as Blaine mumbles about his 'war wound'.

"I didn't hit you that hard," Kurt mutters, rapidly moving from astonished to annoyed.

"No, but I'm still hoping a can trick you into that kiss." Kurt flushes. He can hear the amusement in Blaine's voice, "Don't you feel bad for wounding me?"

Kurt scoffs and bumps his shoulder to get Blaine's chin off, as he tries to get the blood vessels in his face back under control. As soon as Blaine's head is gone, Kurt disentangles himself from Mercedes and Tina and turns around to face him.

"Serves you right," he says, crossing his arms and looking down his nose at Blaine. Kurt is not going to give Blaine the satisfaction of seeing how much he gets to him.

Blaine flings a hand over his heart, "Ouch, Beautiful, you hurt me with your cruel, cruel words."

Kurt can feel the corners of his mouth twitching at the theatrics. He does enjoy a good show.

"Well all's fair in love and war after all." Kurt's eyes widen as the words leave his mouth.

Blaine just _grins _at him, but Tina jumps in before he can say anything.

"How do you two know each other?" she asks, sounding genuinely curious, but also concerned.

Blaine's eyes turn serious for a second as he glances at Kurt, before turning them on Tina.

"We have some classes together," Blaine shrugs, seemingly unperturbed by the question. Kurt lets out a mental sigh of relief. He's not sure why Blaine didn't just tell the truth, but he's grateful nonetheless.

"And you're gay?" she asks.

Blaine frowns a little at that, "Not that it's any of your business, but yeah, since you asked."

Kurt's heart leaps at that. He was pretty sure, but there was a part of him that was wondering if Blaine was just teasing him. He's never had someone actually show an interest in him before. Not like this. Now that he knows that the interest is somewhat genuine it makes him feel… flattered, excited, nervous, honestly is a head rush of emotions.

"So what's your interest with Kurt?" Mercedes jumps in. Kurt's surprised to find himself frowning at her while Blaine is scowling.

"Now that is _definitely_ none of your business," he growls.

Mercedes shoots him an offended look, "Excuse me, the hell it isn't. He's my friend."

Kurt wants to scream. Under any other circumstances he'd be thrilled that she's acting like she used to around him. Fierce and protective because they are friends and she cares about his well-being. But now, he really just wishes she would stop. He thought he'd made the especially clear in glee club yesterday.

Blaine takes a breath before replying, "So what? Doesn't give you the right to approve who he hangs out with." His voice is still hard, but calmer somehow.

"You have no idea, boy," Mercedes begins, "No idea, what he has—"

"_Mercedes,_" Kurt hisses, voice quiet but sharp. She pauses to shoot him a look, before turning back to Blaine.

"You're trouble," she says, thankfully veering away from her earlier train of thought, "You've been here, what? One day? And you have how many detentions?"

Blaine just smirks wolfishly at her, "Depends on what you count as detention."

Mercedes gaps at him. Tina raises her eyebrows. Kurt just feels sick with it all.

If his friends are freaking out over detentions they will definitely not handle the juvie thing well.

"Blaine," Kurt says, stepping towards Blaine and drawing everyone's attention to him, "Did you want something?"

Something in Blaine's eyes settles as he turns his attention back to Kurt.

"Why Beautiful, I thought you'd never ask. Do you have a minute to talk?"

Kurt glances back at his friends, "You guys can go on ahead," he says, trying to break up the potential fight he can still feel brewing in the air. He's pretty sure that if he doesn't get Mercedes and Blaine away from each other soon than they'll rip each other apart.

Mercedes' looks like she's going to protest and Tina doesn't look too keen on leaving either. He prepares to tell them to _leave_ in the nicest way he can, when Rachel purposefully strides into the middle of the standoff with Finn in tow.

"Morning, everyone," she greets brightly. "We need to get to glee to discuss how we can make up ground from the disaster that was the Purple Piano Project, inspired as it was. Kurt, as co-captain of the glee club I'm giving you five minutes to finish your conversation with—Blaine, is it?—before I expect in the choir room to brainstorm with the rest of us, alright? Everyone else, let's get started."

Rachel quickly links her arms with Mercedes and Tina and drags them off reluctantly towards the choir room. Finn glances between them for a moment before nodding at Kurt and leaving to trail after the girls.

Kurt just shakes his head. He can't believe he's saying this, but thank goodness for Rachel Berry. He's not going to critique her wardrobe all week.

He's pulled from his musing by the sound of laughter and turns back to Blaine to see him leaning against a locker quietly laughing to himself.

"Now that is a girl who knows how to get her way," he chuckles.

Kurt smiles. Yes she is. "So you said you wanted to talk to me?"

Blaine's laughter quiets, but his grin remains, "Yeah, I actually need your help on a… project."

"What project?" he asks. It's only the second day of school.

There's something mischievous in Blaine's grin as he answers, "The kind of project only you can help me with."

He should say no. He really should. But… he trusts Blaine. More than he's trusted someone in a long time. Everything around him is telling him that he shouldn't, but Blaine could have left him in that alley. That's what it all ultimately comes back to isn't it? That one moment.

Kurt knows that Blaine could have left him there. He knows that people really can be that heartless and cruel. And quite frankly, Kurt probably wouldn't have blamed him. He's the same age as Kurt, how many seventeen year old would have reacted like Blaine did? Most would have run, probably more out of fear than a desire to actively be cruel. But Blaine didn't. He actually helped him, and made Kurt feel like he wasn't anything special or different for the first time in months. Ironic, since all Kurt ever wanted was to _be _special and different. But not at the cost of his life.

What's that saying? Be careful what you wish for.

Well, if he gets someone like Blaine out of the deal maybe he can start trying to really make his peace with everything. Clearly, there's hope for humanity after all. Even if it shows up in unexpected ways.

Besides, with all the hype that his friends have dumped on his non-relationship with Blaine and his own curiosity, he finds himself not giving a rat's ass what his friends, or anyone else for that matter, will say.

"What kind of project?" he knows he's going to say yes, but he also needs to have some idea of what he's agreeing to. He may need to wear his steel-toe boots.

"The kind that involves me needing a look out that isn't going to lecture me on why what I'm doing is wrong."

Yeah, definitely going to need the steel-toe boots.

Kurt's surprised by Blaine's answer, but now at least he has some idea of what Blaine's asking "How do you know I won't lecture you?"

Blaine just smirks at him, "If you were going to lecture me you wouldn't have gone back to look at it."

Kurt can feel the blood drain from his face in horror, before it then quickly rushes to his cheeks in embarrassment.

"Oh my god, you _saw_ me?" he asks, the words escaping before he's really thought about it.

Blaine's smirk just widens, "Nope, but I suspected. You seemed really focused on me while I was painting. Glad to know I was right."

Embarrassment is quickly replaced by anger.

"You… You _asshole."_ Kurt hisses, upset by how much of a fool Blaine has managed to make of him in the span of two minutes.

Blaine doesn't look the least bit perturbed, "Valid," he says, "So can I take that as a yes?"

Of course Kurt's going to say yes. Maybe he can finally get some of his questions answered.

"Fine," he huffs, "But I'm still mad at you!"

Blaine nods, "Fair enough," before fishing around in his pockets for something. After a moment he pulls out a thin black rectangle and hands it to Kurt.

"Here, I've already put my number into it. I was thinking Friday after school would probably be best, since I know you're busy on Saturday."

Kurt just stares at what he now recognizes as a phone—_his phone—_sitting in his hand.

"What the—how did—you just—_seriously?" _He sputters.

"To answer your questions," he says jovially, "Yes I stole your phone, impulse control issues, remember? I know you're busy on Saturday because I overheard you talking to your friends about it. Yes I just gave you my number, but I don't have yours, you can text it to me once you're done stewing over this." He finishes by waving his hand to indicated Kurt's phone.

"You stole my phone," Kurt says, part of him just not comprehending what happened. Really, who _does_ that?

"I did."

"You could have just asked you know."

"I have issues with rejection. This way was easier and more fun."

"Fun?"

Blaine takes a step towards Kurt and lowers his voice, "You have no idea how adorable you look with that surprised expression on your face."

Kurt can feel his cheeks heat.

"But that," Blaine whispers, tilting his head slightly up towards Kurt's face, "That is definitely my favorite look on you."

Blaine's standing very close to Kurt, but still not touching him. Part of Kurt is nervous about another boy being so close to him, but at the same time he's also curious. What would it be like if he lowered his head those few inches that separate him and Blaine? He knows he can. Knows he won't be rejected, but he still feels so unsure.

And really, he has no idea what he's _doing_.

The moment is broken though as Blaine takes a small step back, putting a little distance between them.

"If we weren't at school…" he begins, but trails off. Kurt's curious as to what he was going to say, but Blaine just shakes his head.

"By the way, Beautiful," he says, taking another step away from Kurt, "If you come with me on Friday, I am getting my kiss." He winks at Kurt as he turns around and heads to class.

Kurt just stands there gaping at where Blaine was standing until the sound of the bell ringing jolts him back to reality and he hurries to his first class.

When his friends ask him about what happened throughout the day he just says that Blaine needs a French tutor and Madame March recommended him. They easily accept the explanation, though they warn him _again_ that he should really stay away from Blaine before letting the matter go. Kurt rolls his eyes and doesn't say anything. No point in beating a dead horse, as his dad would say.

Surprisingly Finn is the only one who has anything of merit to say on the subject.

"So you're meeting up with Blaine?" he asks.

Yes, Finn," Kurt snaps, not in the mood for this anymore.

"Chill, Dude," he says, "I was just asking. Call me if anything comes up though, okay? I know you don't talk about it and I don't know if you wanna tell this Blaine guy, but if you need anything, anything at all, just, call me, dude, okay? And make sure you tell Burt. He'll worry if you don't okay?"

Kurt's surprised at the offer but shoots Finn a genuine smile. "I will, Finn, thanks. Thanks a lot."

Finn smiles that dopey grin of his, "No problem, Dude," before returning his attention to his lunch.

If Finn and Rachel can let the whole Blaine-thing go then who knows, maybe the rest of his friends can too.

He's still not telling them what he and Blaine are getting up to on Friday though.

**A/N: Drop me a review! And remember, next update will be on Monday!**

**-Skylar**


	4. Indefinite Hiatus

**Hello to everyone still reading/getting alerts for this story. **

**So as you all may have noticed I have been completely MIA for about two months now. At first it was just life getting busy and that was fine. But during the second week of August my brother lost his battle to cancer and I pretty much went off the deep end. **

**My brother was the most important person in my life. He's the reason I started writing and the voice that made me brave enough to start posting my work. A lot of this story echoes him, as he was something of a punk when he was younger and he's been with me since I started this. He's the one who reads the first drafts and who points out the fine points of graffiti art to me. And now he's gone and I don't know how to write this story anymore.**

**So for now this story is on indefinite hiatus. **

**I hope that one day, when I feel stronger, I can come back to it. But for now it's just too much. I'm sorry to those of you who have been reading and following and reviewing. It means a lot to me. It really, *really* does.**

**I haven't stopped writing. I can't. My brother would've smacked me for it, for even considering it. So there will be more stories, just not this one. I'm also shutting down my tumblr as it's just too much to keep up with at this point and trying to post things there just kind of drives me batty. **

**So I hope that when I have something else to post you all will read it and like it and in the mean time I wish all of you the best. **

**Thanks,**

**Skylar**


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